


Lost Time

by chaoticxlovers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x18 fix-it, 15x19 Fix-It, Dean Winchester Prays to Castiel, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Loneliness, Love Confessions, M/M, Prompt Fic, Sad with a Happy Ending, The Empty (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27580846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticxlovers/pseuds/chaoticxlovers
Summary: Based on prompt: Castiel makes a deal with The Empty so he can return back to Dean.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 146





	Lost Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt that I got from the user 'castiielst' on Twitter.

Cas wakes up in complete darkness-- though it’s less like waking up, and more like being dragged forcefully into another dimension within the blink of an eye. It’s a strange feeling, but not a new one. He’s dizzy and nauseated, but there’s nowhere to sit. He’s just… Existing. Floating. He’s neither alive, nor dead. But he’s happy, because Dean is safe, and that’s the most important thing right now. He did it for Dean, he was here for Dean. His heart aches at the thought that he’ll never see the man again, but he’s content with his choice, because he knows the man is safe because of him. He could do that much, at least. He hopes Dean is happy now, wherever he is-- _whenever,_ he is. There’s no concept of time in the empty, no way to know anything. 

Castiel has no idea how fast or slow time passes here, or how much time passes on earth in comparison. What seems like minutes could be years, and vice versa. It’s not like that mattered anyway. You don’t need time in eternity. What’s there to keep track of? That thought doesn’t make him sad, just… Lonely. He misses his found family, but the memories they’ve shared together are more than enough. The laughs, the tears, the love… They keep his heart warm. Dean keeps his heart warm. 

He wanders the empty space in silence most days (if you can call them days), sometimes pacing, sometimes crying. There’s nothing else he can do, really. The only company he has are his thoughts. That changes, though, one day. He stops his pacing when he hears it. A prayer. A familiar voice echoes in his head, and his eyes begin to water as he realizes who it is. It’s been so long since he’s heard Dean. 

“I don’t know if you can hear this, Cas-- I might just be talking to air for all I know, but, uh, I miss you. I… I can’t do this without you. I need you, I-” Cas can hear the inhale of a sharp breath, and he closes his eyes, imagining he’s there with the man. “I love you, too. You’re a goddamn idiot for dying like that right after saying that to me, y’know? If I knew before, when we still had time… Well, I get it’s useless to think about it now, but if there’s any chance you can come back-- any chance I can _get_ you back, then I’m going to try. We can try. Just… Please, Cas, I need you.” 

The voice cuts off after that, and Castiel opens his eyes to the black abyss once more. He lifts a hand to his wet face and wipes the tears away, smiling at Dean’s words. He loved him. They loved each other. It hurts more, now, knowing that. He was so sure it was unrequited-- that his years of pining were all one-sided. Why did Dean love him? He wishes he could ask. 

It feels like his heart is breaking all over again-- like he lost a life that he never got the chance of living. If he could’ve told Dean sooner, what other memories would he be thinking of now, alone in the dark? Would the taste of soft lips and the feeling of warm skin be at the forefront of his mind instead of the shy, one-sided looks? But as Dean had said, there was no point in thinking about that now. It was too late, but… He would try, for Dean. He would try to get out. What did he have to lose, now? He had already lost his heart and soul, there was nothing more painful than that. 

So he thought. He thought hard, for what seemed like days. And when he couldn’t come up with anything himself, he knew what he needed to do. 

“Is there anything I can do?” He called out into the empty space. His voice echoed, the only sound in the quiet, endless place. He let out a frustrated huff, rubbing a hand over his growing stubble. He turned around in circles-- looking for something, _anything._ “I’ll do whatever you want. Anything-- I swear.” Silence. He sighed, and took a seat on the smooth, obsidian floor. And he waited.

He must’ve fallen asleep while waiting, for when he gained consciousness again he was looking up at Meg-- or what appeared to be Meg. “C’mon, wake up sleepy head.” She teased, poking his side with the heel of her shoe. “We’ve got talking to do-- that is, if you were serious about what you said.” The sleep washed immediately away with her words, and he hurriedly stood up, a wave of dizziness coming in from the motion. 

”Yes, I’m serious. I’ll do anything.” He said, giving the woman (thing?) a serious look. He had one shot at this, and he just hoped he had something worth her time-- something that could save him. The Empty tilted her head at him, smirk wilting as her face took on a more serious expression. She stepped away from him, falling back onto a throne that appeared out of smoke, the furls of grey curling away to reveal the wide set chair. 

“With Billie gone, I’ve been… Fumbling for solutions here.” The Empty started. “Me and her had a deal, wherein the end I’d gain peace and quiet here. But obviously that can’t happen now, and when Jack went off like a bomb down here it became _loud_ again. I can’t stand it. All the angels and demons have been screaming and bitching and I need a break. I want them to sleep again. And, well… You’re a special angel, aren’t you? I mean, you completely defied God’s plan, even when he wrote it into existence. There has to be something different about you that I can use to my advantage. If not….” She made a rude gesture with her thumb, pretending to slice it across her throat as her tongue lolled out. 

Cas rolled his eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh. He didn’t _think_ there was anything special about him, but she did have a point. He was able to go against God and save Dean-- that had to be something, right? He thought back on the events that had happened in his existence, pondering them carefully. The leviathans, defying heaven, being controlled by Naomi… Maybe he was special, just not in a good way. Literally, his life had been pretty terrible. “What do you need me to do?” He asked. 

The Empty curled her lips into a devious smirk. “There’s something I want to try… And it’ll require your angel juice.” She said, tilting her head in a puppy-like way, as if this piece of information amused her. It sure didn’t amuse him. He shuddered at the memory of the last time he lost his grace-- the utter pain he had felt still scared him to this day. But he said he would do anything. Anything, for Dean. So he nodded. 

“I’ll do it.” He said with determination. The Empty seemed surprised by this, eyes widening a fraction. She seemed to quickly recover though, expression smoothing out into one of curiosity instead. “I know it kinda sucks down here, but earth is no better. Why do you want to get out so bad?” She murmured in fascination, leaning forward in her throne. Cas wondered if he should lie about his reasons, but then decided it didn’t matter. He had nothing to lose. 

“I need to get back to Dean Winchester.” He said. “Dean… He needs me.” He averted his eyes from The Empty's piercing gaze, instead opting to stare at the black beneath his feet. He wanted to turn away, hide his emotions from the evil in front of him; it was never good to be vulnerable around enemies. Maybe lying _would_ have been a better idea, but alas, it was too late. He could hear The Empty laugh, a mocking and irritating sound to his ears.

He looked up as he heard the _clack_ of her stepping from the throne. “Ah, puppy love.” She giggled. “Look at what it’ll do to you. Losing your grace over a man who’s probably moved on already. How _pathetic_ . _”_ Her voice leaned from amused to angry in a matter of seconds, and before he knew it, a piercing pain had shot up his arm. He grunted in pain, flinching and trying to pull back before he realized this is what he needed to let happen. He squeezed his eyes shut, grinding his teeth together and trying to focus on something else. 

Dean’s face popped into the forefront of his mind, and he desperately clung to it. _This is for you, Dean. Everything I do is for you,_ he thought, feeling the warm presence of the man’s memories start to soothe his pain. The grace being ripped from his body turned to a dull ache as he focused on the happy, loving moments they had shared together. The memories were like honey for his soul, leaving him to feel soft and warm inside. A sweetness that although didn’t cure his pain, reminded him of why he was enduring it. 

Before he knew it, the process was over, and he was left keeling on the floor. “Well, you got your wish, lover boy.” The Empty's mocking voice sounded above him. He tried to look up at her, but all he could see was a blurry shape that vaguely resembled a body. His eyes began to droop closed as he heard her hum a foreign tune under her breath. It sounded like a lullaby, and with it, he drifted away. 

* * *

When he next awoke, it wasn’t in darkness. Castiel could see red behind his closed eyelids, and with some effort, he managed to pry them open. He squinted up at the bright light, and it took him a few seconds before he realized that what he was seeing was the sun. He was on earth. A bubble of joy burst in his chest, and he let the relief sink into his aching bones. Cas tried to savor the moment as much as he could before he finally rolled into a sitting position. It took a lot more effort than usual-- the process of getting his grace ripped away from him was brutal and left him sore and in pain. But it was worth it, because he was here again. Just as he had promised. 

An hour passed-- the amount of time he needed to walk to the nearest store. The people passing him by gave him strange looks, and he realized eventually that it was because his clothes were covered in blood and he looked like a _mess._ He probably wasn’t going to be allowed into the actual store due to that very reason, so he opted instead to use the phone booth outside. Except he didn’t have a quarter. Goddammit. With a sigh, he turned to one of the people on the sidewalk, putting on his friendliest face. 

“Do you mind if I borrow some change?” He asked a feeble old woman on the bench. She stared at him through her large, pink glasses, and it was as if he could physically see the gears turning behind her eyes. Without a word, she dug through a small purse that matched her blindingly pink getup, pulling out a handful of change and dropping it in his hand. She didn’t even smile, just gave him a solemn nod and shooed him off. 

He shook his head at the absurdness of his encounter, going back to the phone booth and slotting one of the coins into the machine. He gave the dial a turn nine times, putting in Dean’s number. The phone rang for what seemed like ages before the man finally picked up. “Sammy?” A slurred voice said. _Dean._ “You alright?” Cas could feel his handshake, and he took a deep breath in, trying to calm his nerves. 

“It’s me, Dean.” Cas said, hoping his voice didn’t sound too wobbly over the phone, because he was on the verge of tears at just hearing the other man’s voice. There was a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line, and then a hiss. “Fuck off.” And then it went dead. Cas blinked down at the phone, wondering what the _fuck_ just happened. Dean sounded drunk, he realized. Was he drinking because of him? He hoped not. With a sigh, he tried calling again. 

“Look I told you to fuck off, alright? This isn’t funny. I don’t know if you’re a demon or a different kind of douchebag but so help me God I will hunt you down and-” 

“I heard your prayer.” Silence. “I found a way out, Dean. I tried, because of you.” 

Seconds passed by, minutes soon following. All that Cas could hear was the buzz of the line, and for a moment, he thought that Dean had hung up again before the man spoke, “It’s really you, huh.” He sounded more sober this time, and Cas hoped he had drunk some water-- but maybe it was just the shocking piece of information that made him sober up. “Yeah, it’s me.” 

What sounded like a sob cut through the phone, and Cas’ heart sank when he realized that Dean was crying-- it sunk even further when he realized he was, too. They stayed like that for a while, and Cas smiled through his tears, hoping that Dean was doing the same. Smiling, that is. He always wanted Dean to smile. The man deserved it. “Where are you, Cas?” Dean finally asked.

Cas looked around him, trying to spot a sign. When he couldn’t, he opened the glass door and once more turned to the old woman. “Ma’am, what town and state are we in?” He asked sheepishly, holding the phone away from his face. She blinked slowly, then pointed to the map above the bench. The map that Cas had apparently missed with the first sweep of his eyes. He was more tired than he thought. “I’m in Phoenix, Arizona. Apparently.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his drooping eyes. 

He could hear shuffling on the other end of the line, then a familiar jingle of keys. “Dean, I don’t think you should be driving after you’ve been drinking.” He muttered, a pang of anxiety echoing in his chest. It mixed with the relief settled there, and for a moment he just closed his eyes and savored the feeling. He hadn’t felt that way in a while, and although it wasn’t the best feeling, it was nostalgic. He could hear the irritated sigh from Dean, the man not even questioning how Cas knew he was drunk-- they both knew the answer anyways. “I’m going to let Sammy drive, don’t worry about it.” 

Cas let out a breath of relief at the words. He knew Dean wasn’t stupid, but drunk Dean could make questionable decisions sometimes-- especially when those decisions were governed by his emotions. “I’m going to find somewhere to wait.” He said, looking at the map. He noticed a park listed nearby. “I’ll be at a park called Palma. Goodbye, Dean.” He heard a sharp intake of breath, and realized his choice of words might’ve not been the best-- a familiar echo of their last goodbye. 

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” He said, and heard a hum of approval on the other side of the line before he hung up. 

* * *

Cas ended up falling asleep on one of the park benches, trenchcoat draped over his body as a makeshift blanket. It probably wasn’t the best idea-- sleeping in a public place when he was now mortal opened up a whole new world of possibilities-- none of them good. He could be kidnapped or murdered, but at that moment in time all Cas could think of was sleep. His bones ached, and the smell of metal lingered in his nose from the blood still left on his clothes-- now dry and crumbling off. 

When he finally awoke, it was with a jolt. Someone was shaking his shoulder-- it wasn’t a painful shake, but it still shocked him nonetheless. He reached out with his hand, trying to smite the person with his grace before he realized he couldn’t. That’s when he came into focus. Dean. Relief and joy flooded through his aching body, and tearful smiles lit up on both their faces. “You’re actually here.” The man murmured in disbelief. Cas’ eyes flicked behind him for a split second, spotting Sam a few feet behind-- trying to give them some semblance of privacy. 

“I am.” He said. They stared at each other, taking in the presence and joy of lost company found once again. And then Dean pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. Cas let out a hiss of pain, but hugged back nonetheless. It wasn’t a long one, once Dean realized he had hurt the man. “You’re in pain, why are you in pain?” Dean asked, voice rising an octave along with his obvious anxiety. That’s when he seemed to notice the blood. 

“Shit, Cas, what happened?” He asked, and Cas let out a tired sigh. “I’ll explain in the car.” He replied. 

And he did. The whole story-- minus the parts about Dean’s prayer and how The Emptyhad mocked his love for the man. Besides all that, he filled them in with all the important parts. The deal, losing his grace, etc. It took up the most of their trip, well into the night. The brothers in turn filled him in on their adventures with Chuck, and Cas felt even more relief at the fact he was finally defeated. When they finally arrived back to the bunker, Sam turned to him. “I’m happy you made it back-- even though you lost your grace again. We missed you a lot.” 

Sam gave him a smile that turned into a yawn, and Cas thanked the man before he bid them farewell to go to sleep. Leaving Dean and Cas alone. They stood there in silence, Dean leaning against the table in the middle of the room, and Cas leaning against the wall. “You need to get changed, Cas.” He finally said. “C’mon, I’ll get you some clothes.” Cas followed Dean slowly, leaning against the wall for support until Dean noticed, and let the man lean against his side instead. Cas didn’t protest, even though the butterflies (they were more like bats) in his stomach refused to settle down within close proximity of the other man. 

Cas changed into the clothes Dean gave him-- a long-sleeved blue sweater, and a pair of checkered green and grey pajama pants. They were a bit big, but they were comfortable. When he came back into the bedroom, Dean seemed to forget what he was going to say, opting for staring at the man instead. Cas felt that flutter inside his chest again, and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as he waited. “Um, you look good-- the outfit, looks good, that is….” Dean fumbled over his words, and it brought a smile to Cas’ face to see that the reaction was because of him, and how he looked. He felt giddiness, underneath the fatigue. 

“Thank you, Dean,” and then, “do you want to talk about it?” The question seemed to make Dean even more flustered, even though Cas didn’t specify exactly what he wanted to talk about. It could be about his death, his revival once more-- but they both knew it was about the love confession. The rest they would get to later. After Dean stopped fussing with the sleeves of his shirt and managed to sit down, Cas took the spot next to him and give him an encouraging smile.

“It’s true,” Dean started, taking a deep breath. “What I said is true. I… I do. Love you, that is.” Cas’ heart fluttered at his words, and he waited patiently for the man to continue. It took him a couple more deep breaths, but he got there eventually. “I’ve loved you for a long time, I think. Longer than I can remember. I never had the balls to say it before-- I mean, I didn’t think you’d be too happy about your best friend wanting to get in your pants-- not that that’s all I want from you, uh. Fuck. What I’m trying to say is that… When I thought I lost you, I hated myself. I still hate myself because of it-- because I didn’t say it back when you could’ve been gone forever. I was too… Shocked, I guess. But I should’ve said it back. I shouldn’t have let you die, thinking you weren’t loved. That you were just like a brother to me, because you’re not. I want more from you-- so much more, and it terrifies me that I could’ve had that all this time, and then just… Didn’t do anything about it.” 

“And you know, it hurts even more that you gave so damn much for me, and I didn’t appreciate that enough. You _died_ for me, Cas-- which I’m still pissed about, by the way. I’m not worth dying over. I’m glad you’re back, but the guilt I felt after losing you… It’s happened too many times. I don’t want it to happen again. This one was too close. And now that you’ve lost your mojo… Well, I guess you’re stuck here with us again, right?” 

Cas smiled at Dean, giving him a small nod. “I’m going to always be here, Dean. You don’t need to feel guilty because of what I _chose_ to do. I have free will, just like you. You didn’t kill me, I sacrificed myself because I love you.” He said. “And Dean…” Cas leaned closer. “You are always going to be worth dying for when it comes to me.” Their lips were so close together, just a hairsbreadth away. “And don’t forget, we can make up for lost time.” They kissed. 

It was everything Cas had hoped it would be, but it never escalated further than just the soft press of lips. They were both tired, and eventually, sleepy kissing turned into just sleep. They held each other through the night, and through every night after. They would grow old together, too, one day. But for now, they were just making up for lost time.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this within the span of like three hours so I'm sorry if it's not my best work. My twitter handle is 'wlwdeancas' if you'd like to send me any other prompts or ideas. 
> 
> Leave your critiques, opinions, and love below <3


End file.
